I'll Like You For Always
by cloverblob
Summary: Beth Corcoran always wakes up early. Always. But it's a routine that Shelby never complains about. One shot. Mother/daughter fluff. A little bit of Shelby/April.


**Title: **I'll Like You For Always  
><strong>Author:<strong> Me, RiVeR123.  
><strong>Rating: <strong>K  
><strong>Pairing(s): <strong>Shelby/April  
><strong>Warning(s):<strong> Femslash... does that count as a warning?  
><strong>Summary: <strong>Beth Corcoran always wakes up early. Always. But it's a routine that Shelby never complains about.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>Not my characters. **  
>Author's Note: <strong>Here's a fluffy little one shot of Shelby being a good mommy. Because there are entirely too many stories of Quinn being one, and Shelby seeming like the wicked witch who steals babies, fattens them up and eats them. Or at least, too many where she conveniently dies and someone gets to raise the child better. I apologize for any inaccuracies concerning Beth's age and how she acts. It's been six years since I've had a fifteen month old in the house. That whole period is an exhausted, messy, crying blur. Bonus points to anyone who can guess what childhood story the title is from. Also, All mistakes are my own. It's two in the morning, forgive the errors.

**I'LL LIKE YOU FOR ALWAYS**

Saturday morning. Always a fun day to wake up at six thirty to the wails of a fifteen month old. The loud, rough cries of something that sounded like "umma!_"_, hoarse inhales and quiet hiccups called to her as Shelby Corcoran sat up in bed. She frustratedly rubbed her face with both hands and tossed a thick strand of bed hair from her eye-line. Tossing the covers from her side of the bed off, she smiled.

"I'm coming!" she informed the toddler, though the cries did not cease. She put on her home slippers and made her way into the nursery. Standing up in her crib, Beth continued to scream aloud, only now having spotted her mother, she opened her arms; begging to be picked up. On the floor, inches away from the opposite wall, her bottle lay, clearly thrown in her frustration of not getting any attention.

"Did you throw this?" Shelby asked, as she bent down to pick it up then made her way to the crib. She held it in front of her daughter's face, and almost as though she'd known she'd done wrong, Beth stopped her wailing and instead stared at her mother in silence. Shelby chuckled and wrapped her arm around the little girl, placing her on the floor and heading to the kitchen to empty and clean the bottle. Beth, in her yellow footie pyjamas followed on her heels, rushing quickly and boisterously after her to keep up with her larger steps.

When they reached the kitchen, Shelby began her task of acquiring some breakfast for her baby; pulling out a bowl with cereal and orange juice poured into an Sesame Street sippy cup. As she did so, Beth babbled below her, watching her meal get prepared. The nonstop, nonsensical noises that almost sounded like a rant made Shelby smile as she picked Beth up again to place her in the high chair.

"I completely agree," Shelby said when the baby stopped babbling for the shortest second, only to continue again when she was set in place. "No, no, you're right. I'd be equally appalled." She often would pretend to have an adult conversation with the child, thinking it might make her feel just the slightest bit proud to talk with her mommy the way other people did. Even if the idea of a baby thinking in such ways seemed preposterous.

Leaving her with her food for a moment, Shelby made her way to the bathroom to rinse her face and brush her teeth; part of her morning ritual. Halfway through turning off the tap, she heard the up-rise of hiccoughs and low wailing of "umma" once again. Shelby winced at her reflection, rushing the scrub of bristles on molars to get back to her crying child.

She supposed it was her fault, unintentionally enabling Beth to be entirely too clingy. A parenting book would tell her she held her too often, snuggled too much and conceded to her cries too quickly and too easily. Shelby would tell them to mind their own damn business; if her kid wanted to be picked up, she was going to be picked up. But with Shelby working daily as she did, and Beth needing daycare, it led the separation anxiety to become a daily thing.

"Two minutes, honey. I was in the other room for _two minutes,_" she reasoned with the little girl, who immediately responded to the sound of her voice and quieted down. Beth continued to eat her cheerios as if everything had been okay. Shelby, then, sat down on the kitchen stool to let her eat in comfort watching her grab whatever bits would fit into the palm of her hand and toss them into her mouth over and over again.

Eventually, Beth turned to her mom, holding her cup in her outstretched hand. "You want more?" she asked, but as she took hold of the other handle, she realized it was still half full. "No, you finish before you can get more." But the baby continued to force it towards her, until it dawned on her. "Oh! Are you sharing with me?" Shelby laughed, taking the cup and pretending to take a long drink with exaggerated gulps and an over emphasized smacking of her lips with drew out an eager squeal from the child. "Thank you very much, miss," she said playfully, handing the cup back over which Beth grasped with both hands and thirstily drank down.

Shelby leaned forward, resting her elbows on the edge of the high chair's table and her jaw within her palms as she surveyed her daughter's curls, wondering when exactly they would grow out to the point that she could start styling and braiding and brushing, and probably, endlessly bug her about it.

"How is it exactly that you're able to have a full-fledged conversation with a one year old but can't hold up your end of social interaction when we meet with my friends?" Came a groggy voice from the doorway behind.

Both Shelby and Beth turned their heads at the sound. "Sorry, did we wake you?" she asked, though the smile on her face didn't prove much of an apology. "And they're hardly friends so much as co-workers who all won awards for _your_ musical and decided they were better than you." Shelby, of course, felt obliged to defend her social shortcomings.

"I was awake the second you got out of bed; it was the yammering that kept me up," the petite blonde complained. "How's Little-Miss-I'm-Gonna-Wake-Everyone-Up this morning?" April doted, placing a hand on the girl's chest wiggling her fingers and making Beth giggle uncontrollably.

Shelby stood up from the stool, finally free to leave her baby attended and get into a change of clothes. "She wants you to drink some," the brunette informed, as April looked puzzlingly at the cup being shoved into her face.

"And should I?" she asked tentatively, gingerly lifting the cup out of tiny, honey-coated hands.

"Nope. Baby needs her vitamins," Shelby called out, making her way into the bedroom.

Shelby began to change, readying herself for the day. As she was sliding on a new shirt, a "no!" and piercing cries started up, and Shelby sighed. It was an expected event, but it didn't mean it was any less circumventing. From here, she could hear the hurried shushing.

Doing her best to ignore it and not go rushing out to calm the child's distress, Shelby took a brush to her hair. She began to hum, occasionally scatting, to drown out the cries. She knew it was best that she not be so equally clingy, but it didn't make her feel any less anxious.

As the crying subsided, she exhaled in relief, letting her head sink down as she returned the hairbrush to her dresser. "I told her if she stopped crying, she'd get what she wanted. It only took a good twenty minutes. I think she's gettin' better," April said as she walked into the room, holding Beth in her arms.

"I'm irresistible, what can I say?" she joked, "Bethy loves her mama, she can't get enough of me." She took her daughter from her girlfriend's arms and placed a kiss to the side of her head as little hands clutched tightly onto the fabric of her shirt.

"Yeah, we have that in common."


End file.
